


plastic flood

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Best Friends, F/M, Feels, Friendship, Gen, It's really more like, Legos, Platonic Relationships, Sad with a Happy Ending, happy to sad to happy again, like really light and vague but they're there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Whatever the case, it’s always Lego, in some form, flipped over fingers and tapped onto tables whenever one visits the other.It’s their thing.





	plastic flood

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY SOMETHING SHORT

It starts in middle school.

Peter meets Ned.

Ned meets Peter.

Peter and Ned become friends.

Best friends, in fact.

Ned’s parents get a promotion each one year, and they start livin’ it up, which means their only child gets the _best_ , no holds barred.

Ned invites Peter over to their new (but old) house in Floral Park, with an actual lawn and backyard and those fancy European-looking “tower-thingies”, as he liked to call them.

They build their first Lego set that day.

It’s Luke’s X-Wing.

It’s the first in their fleet.

* * *

They both get into Midtown Tech, surprising no one.

They have the highest math and science grades at their old school, and a high enough average with everything else.

Peter’s been building his own computers since who knows how long, and Ned’s always the one hacking the entire class system during computer classes to make all the screens play a synced meme.

(He’s never been caught, because everyone knows and no one’s a snitch.)

The Lego habit continues.

It doesn’t _have_ to be a full set, either.

Sometimes it’s a few loose, unrelated pieces they buy at a rare sale at the store in Queens Center Mall, or at an even rarer garage sale.

Sometimes it’s mixed sets they’ve dismantled and made hybrids of, because adventure is out there, and that’s _definitely_ how Tony Stark operates, and they like to emulate the billionaire’s genius side.

Whatever the case, it’s always Lego, in some form, flipped over fingers and tapped onto tables whenever one visits the other.

It’s their thing.

* * *

It becomes MJ’s thing, surprisingly.

They’d assumed she’d hate it, because it’s a “loser past time”, or because it probably harms the environment, or _something_ , but she loves it.

Loves being able to make worlds out of nothing.

Loves being able to change it, on a whim.

Ned thinks it’s because she’s an artist.

Peter thinks it’s because she’s always in her head.

MJ argues it’s, “Both, dweebs. I like the freedom.”

And that’s that.

MJ joins the Lego Squad, and suddenly there’s a third person contributing to the pile of plastic blocks building up—ha!—under Peter’s bed and inside his closet.

* * *

They don’t exactly know when it happens, but at some point, the Lego-building becomes a mandatory and daily exercise, snuck in during lunch or after classes. Little things—chairs, simple cars—but _things_ nonetheless.

Like their version of fidget spinners, but with more and more and _more_.

* * *

MJ plops down a new backpack onto their lunch table one day in junior year, beckoning them closer with a blank face and lazy voice:

“I figure we can keep 'em here.”

Peter narrows his eyes at her, confused. “You got a bag...for our Legos.”

She shrugs. “It’s better than hoping you don’t lose your backpack when you’re out being a semi-delinquent.”

Ned nudges her reflexively, as if suddenly aware of the importance of volume, even though her voice was more subdued than his own when he "whispers".

MJ just smirks at him, pushing the bag to center table. “I got some hand-me-downs from my cousin in there.”

“For today?” Ned asks as Peter starts digging.

“For forever, I guess.”

“These are weirdly clean for hand-me-downs,” Peter says, a handful of Legos now seeing the light of the cafeteria.

“My cousins barely used them,” MJ explains, digging around for the little yellow people but finding a horse instead. “ _Aha—_ they don’t make ‘em like this anymore.”

“With a lot less concern for the environment?” Ned quips, pulling out a little ranger man. He passes it to MJ. “Here, he can ride Mr. Fluffles.”

(MJ won a bet at some point, and all the unnamed Lego-folk and animals had to be given disastrously embarrassing names, especially when in public.

It's gotten them plenty of stares, but they’d been doing it for so long that shame was off the table.)

“Perfect fit,” MJ says,  _clipping_ the ranger man onto Mr. Fluffles. She sits down, props up her book on the backpack, and grabs a few pieces for herself.

“They’re Legos—of course it’s a perfect fit,” Ned says, quirking a brow.

“Doesn’t make it any less satisfying.”

“Trudat,” Peter says, already halfway through what looks like a whale.

They revert to their quiet, focused silence, slowly building up the cast of _Finding Nemo_  to the tune of a hundred and ten students chattering about midterms and the big robotics meet.

* * *

Backing out of Lego building for anything other than saving the world is punishable by something... _unspoken_ , as evidenced by MJ getting the cold shoulder treatment when she failed, once, to do so, by running out of time from napping too long after school on Peter’s couch.

It’s a weird twist of personalities, and she never makes the same mistake again.

* * *

The bus rattles and they drop their half-made Leaning Tower of Pisa.

MJ groans, annoyed, because they really shouldn't be doing this on the bus anyway.

Ned groans, annoyed, because he _just_ finished a really nice window.

Peter doesn't groan, and isn't annoyed, because the hair on his arms are up straight and that's not how gravity's supposed to work.  

* * *

Peter finds a lone piece of plastic on him when he has a second to breathe. The weird alien lady with antennae eyes him and asks what it is, but this is more precious than his identity at this point, so he steps back and away, apologetic as he listens to Tony’s plan for the ninth time.

* * *

“I got more,” MJ says, opening the door to Peter’s room. She’s got bags under her eyes that make Ned want to go and run and find the jerk who did this and give him a talking-to before attempting to kick him in the face.

(He knows it won’t work, but he wants Peter back, and wants MJ to sleep, and above all else, he wants his parents.

The rational part of his brain says all three are impossible.

Good thing his rational side flew away with Peter when he hopped off the bus and followed the Evil Metal Donut Of Evil-Evilness five months ago.)

“You gotta stop going out there,” Ned chastises, but he gets up and helps her carry the old backpack in anyway.

It's dusty and still has the pins Peter had put on it from...before.

All she says is, “I know,” in that quiet, empty voice of hers—the one that didn't exist until Day Three of the End of the World—before sitting cross-legged and dumping the blocks with the rest.

Ned hugs her, lets her lean her head on his shoulder.

She still doesn’t sleep.

(May comes home with food later.

At least they’ve learned to eat again.)

* * *

It takes him thirteen months to get back, because of the...time...and travel...and weird, just _weird_ method of saving the world that the original Avengers had used to win.

The world was still reeling before the return, but it had mostly adjusted to compensate, and suddenly, they’re back.

All of them.

Peter isn’t with the first wave—not with the people who disappeared on Earth. MJ and Ned don't know what to think, but seeing their families come back drains something they didn’t know was there, and they go home, because they need _some_ good news, and they still don’t know if he’d made it.

So they’re not there four hours later, when Peter walks the street home, outside of his suit. Opens the building front door with his keys. Takes the elevator up.

They’re not there when May gives him a bone-crushing hug, refusing to let go and mumbling, repeatedly, about his room being invaded.

They’re not there when he’s almost at his door and he remembers to pick up his phone to call them, to say _Hello_ or _I’m sorry_ or _I missed you._

They’re not there when he finally opens his room, and his phone drops.

When the little, individual, _not-at-all together_ blocks pool around his calves, spilling into the living room.

But May is, and her arms are around his shoulders, and her face is tracked with tears, and today, she’s finally smiling.

And she says:

“They said they wanted to wait for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> based off [this post](http://icyalpaca.tumblr.com/post/174933426282)
> 
> [otters & ants (+other) snippets](https://doofwrites.tumblr.com/post/174932781868/snippets)
> 
> I cry a lot abt these three ok
> 
> God bless yallllll find me here or on tumblr as doofwrites!


End file.
